He comes to me in variation; sometimes in a rush, sometimes leisurely

But he's always there, always

Maybe he scurried up next to me when I was three and the hallways in my house were filled with screams and there was nobody to hold me

Maybe he entered when I saw little girls swinging about their father's arms in playgrounds

Maybe he appeared in 2008 when I saw my beautiful city burn in flames on television because a group of men chose to devote themselves to being his followers

Maybe he rushed in when I made a friend in a village in Gujarat who told me I would go on to do special things and that I should definitely do them because she wasn't allowed to be educated beyond eighth grade

Maybe he swept me off my feet when I heard about a friend who lived the life of a princess on the surface, but was being forced to marry at 19 and there was nothing I could do about it

Maybe he became etched in my memory every time I read about a gang rape case in the newspaper

Maybe he was the one who called out to me when they ruined someone I loved; when they ruined me

Maybe he stood at the corner every single time someone made an ignorant comment about my race or gender and their correlation with my abilities

Maybe he drove by the times I gave into society's standards and abused my skin

Maybe he arrived because I was growing up and the ones I once was extremely close to started to fade from the foreground of my life into its background

Maybe he created a time-lapse to show you that they wrapped their hands around your waist not because they loved you, but because they were lonely

Maybe he stood in the shower with me and watched the water burn my skin because nothing seemed to make sense anymore and I felt like I was going crazy

Maybe it was when I realized he was the co-founder of the caste system in India and the race system in the United States

Maybe it was when I had just started to trust the universe but then my best friend lost three of her loved ones in a row and I had no explanation whatsoever to offer so we turned to him

Maybe he echoed for centuries through the mouths of your people but no one listened so, he now haunts every soul in sight

Maybe he was caressed asleep by a heart which has been through too much but refuses to shut and turn cold

Maybe it was the time you screamed the truth, but no one believed you except him

Maybe he ran miles with you until your legs gave in and you fell to the ground in exasperation

Maybe he runs in your veins because he was begotten from the blood of the women who were wronged before you

Maybe he shook you from your nightmare so you could turn your pain into power

Maybe he was the reason for your creation amidst his destruction

His name's Anger and he refuses to let go.